Seeing Black
by SasuSakuisforalways
Summary: When thorns pierce through and white bleeds red, tainted lips leave words unsaid. But lies become truths on tainted lips, and with a last wish, the master slips. "Join me in a broken fairytale, Bocchan."
1. Chapter 1

Ciel stepped carefully though the dying rose bushes, watching as his grey boots left tracks in the blanket of white snow. Inch by inch, the young heir neared endless maze before him, unclipped hedges taunting him with their foreboding nature. _The heir has come to us to die_, they seemed to hiss.

"Yes. I have come to die," Ceil answered, untying his eye patch. He let the soft, satin ribbon slip through his fingers, watching as it fell to the snow at his feet. Then, shedding his black overcoat as well, Ciel entered the maze.

Silently, the last heir to the Phantomhive name made his way through the monstrous hedges, leaving his past behind, imprinted in the form of shadowy white footsteps. Sharp pain seized his arm, and the boy turned to examine a vine whose thorns began to claw into the soft flesh. Ciel tugged at his captor, but the vine would not release him. Finally, he gave in, observing as his own blood stained the silken white sleeve of his tunic.

"Bocchan." His voice came like ice, emotionless, freezing. Ciel turned to face the demon, a frown upon his lips. "This is no place for a human." Sebastian removed the lecherous vine from Ciel's arm and lifted the boy effortlessly into his arms. A small smile graced the demon's lips, and man's beautiful features relaxed into relief.

"Sebastian," the boy began. Ciel looked straight up into the demon's crimson eyes, lips parted slightly.

"Yes, My Lord," the man answered, gazing steadily back into Ciel's mismatched eyes. His young master did not finish but did not break eye contact. "What is it?"

"It doesn't matter," Ciel finally answered, turning his eyes down. "I'm freezing; take me back to the mansion."

"Yes, My Lord."

Sebastian made fast work of the buttons on Ciel's shirt, pulling the ruined fabric slowly away from his master's injured arm. Retrieving a roll of bandages, the demon removed his pure white gloves with his teeth, exposing the seal of their contract. Sebastian watched as the boy's blood continued to seep out of several deep holes on his upper arm, eyeing it hungrily. With glowing eyes, the demon butler leaned over the pale boy, tracing his tongue slowly over the puncture wounds.

"Sebas—" Ciel cut off when he felt the demon's eyes upon his again. Gently, the demon bandaged the wound and turned to retrieve Ciel's night shirt from an expensively upholstered chair near the window. Neither uttered a word as the demon dressed his master for bed.

After he had finished, Sebastian stood, crossing his left hand over his chest, and then turned to leave.

"Sebastian," Ciel called.

"Yes, Bocchan," his butler replied, turning back to face the young boy. Ciel stood and walked slowly to the large window. As he gazed out into the still, black night, he continued.

"You'll stay with me until I achieve my revenge," Ciel stated. But, in fact, the statement came more as a question.

"I will stay by your side until the end, Bocchan," the demon answered. "Is that all, Young Master?" The young Phantomhive did not answer but continued to gaze into the stars, letting his vision slip in and out of focus. "My Lord?"

"Sebas—yes that is all." The demon gave his master one last glance stepped out into the hall, closing the door silently behind him.

"Yes, My Lord," the demon whispered, kissing the seal on the back of his hand.


	2. Chapter 2

Yay! Grell's here to help me with the disclaimer today!

Grell: Oh, I just couldn't help myself! I was on the way to see Sebby, but then I saw you and I thought that I must go talk to you!

Sophia: Well, I am very charming myself...

Grell: I could say the same for myself as well...

Sophia: Alright, get on with the disclaimer already.

Grell: Sophia does not own Black Butler or any of the characters. Especially not Sebastian; he belongs to me!

Sophia: *Facepalms* How did I know you would say that?

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><p>Try though he did, Ciel could not sleep. With his mind racing a million miles an hour, the young heir pulled up to gaze at the waning crescent. Curiously, he pressed one small palm up against the cool glass and watched as a rim of white surrounded his hand. Though the moon cast little light, the snow glistened like cut diamonds under the sun.<p>

As the night wore on, the young earl's eyes grew solemn. Underneath his calm, secure mask, crushing pain wore on his white soul, sucking the life out of him like a parasite.

A light rap sounded on the closed door.

"Enter," Ciel sated blankly. Dressed in all black, Sebastian entered, carrying polished, silver candelabra. White wax dripped down the candles, and the red flames danced like savages around a fire.

"Does sleep evade my lord?" The butler inquired soothingly.

"I evade it," the boy stated defiantly. Sebastian chuckled lightly and, placing the candelabra on the bedside table, strode over to where the sleepless earl sat, intently focused on the moon.

"Lady Elizabeth will pay visit tomorrow. My lord should rest, for I know how much she exhausts him." Sebastian laughed lightly, gently lifting Ciel's small frame into his arms.

"Sebastian, I don't care to sleep right now," Ciel retorted, yawning.

"At least rest your eyes then. I can imagine that Lady Elizabeth would worry if she saw dark circles under them," the demon lulled. Ciel made a noise in his throat as if to dismiss the topic of his fiancée. "She certainly has enough energy, but she really does care about you, Bocchan." The earl closed his eyes as the demon carefully tucked him under the satin sheets and goose down comforter. Sebastian lingered a several minutes, and, after he knew his master had fallen into deep sleep, the butler traced his fingertips lightly over Ciel's soft cheek. "Sleep well, Bocchan."

Ciel woke to the scent of caramel and cinnamon.

"Good morning, Young Master. This morning, I prepared cinnamon rolls with caramel glaze and French creme, for your tea, a black vanilla imported from France." Silently, Ciel glared at the pastry.

"I'm not hungry," he mumbled, turning his head. A loud growl from the boy's stomach sabotaged his act, and Sebastian chuckled lightly.

"Indeed…" The butler smirked, cutting a small piece from the dessert and lifting it to Ciel's mouth. The boy took the expertly prepared pastry into his mouth and chewed slowly, savoring the sweet caramel and rich crème. This was, by far, the best sweet the butler had ever prepared. As Sebastian listed the day's plans, the young heir found himself focused solely on the taste of the light pastry. "I should also notify you that Alois Trancy will attend your tea party with Lady Elizabeth as well. Ciel nearly dropped his tea. "Bocchan, are you alright?"

"That—he's coming here?" The Phantomhive earl choked out. Ciel sighed, placing the tea cup down on the cart.

"Is something the matter, Bocchan? Shall I cancel today's appointments?"

"No, that will not be necessary," Ciel replied blankly. "I'm going to have to deal with him some time or another." The heir sighed again, pondering the long day ahead of him.

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><p>Yay! Alois, Claude, and Lizzy get to make an appearance! I'll bring the Undertaker, Grell, Lau, Ran Mao, and William in a little later...<p>

! A SCARY SPIDER JUST RAN ACROSS THE CARPET! *terridied screams* Okay, gotta go rid house of spide. Heh heh *gulps*

~Sophia


	3. Chapter 3

"Sebastian! What in God's name and all things holy is this?" This was the question that arose when Ciel stepped into the parlor where Lizzie and Alois chatted politely.

From floor to ceiling, the room accommodated lush green foliage and vibrantly colored flowers, and, to Ciel's horror, a large boa had made the crystal chandelier its new home. A pair of bright macaws eyed the Phantomhive heir curiously. A slight pitter patter and the deafening chirp of tree frogs filled the room.

"My Lord, you did ask for an exotic tea party, did you not?" Sebastian chuckled lightly at the look of horror upon his master's face.

Quite suddenly, a small green amphibian soared through the air, landing in Ciel's silken, blue-black hair. The boy growled as the frog let out an earsplitting call. "Get it off of me!" He shouted, balling his tiny hands into fists at his side.

"Awe!" Lizzie cooed. "I think the froggy likes you, Ciel!" A round of high pitched, migraine inducing giggles followed. The young Phantomhive winced at the painful sound, and, noticing this, Sebastian cut in gracefully.

"I'm afraid my master is fighting quite a painful headache. If it would not disappoint you, I think I shall remove the frogs and parrots from the room now?"

"I'm so sorry, Ciel. I didn't know your head was hurting. I'll be quieter," the blonde chimed happily. "And I don't mind if you take away the frogs, Mr. Sebastian," she smiled happily. "If it makes Ciel's head feel better, I'd be happy if the frogs left."

"Me too," Alois agreed, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered on his face. "Anything for _my_ dear Ciel."

"I'm not your Ci—"

"Just wait one minute!" Elizabeth exclaimed, jumping up onto her chair. "Ciel is my fiancée, not yours, you disgusting pervert!" That platinum haired cutie stuck her pink tongue out at the smirking boy who seemed not to take comment to heart. Frustrated, Elizabeth followed up the previous statement with: "and you're butler's nothing but a tap dancing freak!"

"What did you say about Claude?" The young Trancy mounted his own chair, screaming now. "You take that back, you obnoxious brat!" All the while, more tree frogs continued to gather on the Phantomhive's aching head. "Ciel doesn't even love you, you spoiled girl!" Alois sneered.

"You idiot! Who else would he love?" Elizabeth shouted.

"Sebastian," Ciel moaned, covering his ears with small gloved hands. Immediately, the room fell silent, save a slight chuckle from the butler.

"What?" Lizzie asked, eyes growing wide.

"Ciel loves… Sebastian?" Alois puzzled. All at once, the two seemed to be on the same, very distorted (in Ciel's current opinion) page.

"No that's not what—" The Phantomhive tried to explain but was abruptly cut off.

"Eliminate the butler!" Alois shrieked, jumping onto the table. Several china tea cups met their doom.

"Let's hit him with a rain stick!" Lizzie exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Stop!" The Phantomhive boy screamed. "Stop it now!"

"Bocchan, you're asthma—" The demon butler abruptly cut off when the boy doubled over, gasping. "My lord," Sebastian quickly moved to support the faint earl. The butler quickly administered treatment and carefully lifted the boys trembling form into his arms. "I'm very sorry, but it appears the young master will have to postpone this visit for a short while. In the meantime, Maylene, Bard, and Finnian will entertain you." Sebastian spoke with sly distaste, assuming the three hooligans were listening outside the door. From the general direction of the door, Sebastian heard panicked shuffles, confirming his theory. "I know you three are waiting outside, so you might as well come in," the demon sighed. The door opened with a creek, and in walked a nervous Bard, an ashamed Finnian, and a blushing Maylene. "The young master needs to rest a while; therefore, our guests will stay for dinner. I trust that you can entertain his guests for the time being?" The three nodded their heads vigorously. "And try not to burn down the mansion or destroy the gardens," Sebastian murmured on his way out.

"Yes, Mr. Sebastian, Sir!" All three saluted the butler. "We won't disappoint you." Sebastian smirked as the door closed behind him.

"I can walk, you know," Ciel sighed, turning to look up at the demon. Sebastian met his gaze with a pair of slightly amused garnet eyes.

"Bocchan, you're asthma is acting up, and you're exhausted." The young boy opened his mouth to argue but closed it again; there was really no use in ageing with Sebastian. _Damn butler... Why is he always right?_ Ciel's eye skimmed over the demon's handsome face. _And why does he have to be so perfect?_

Back in the parlor, Bard, Finnian, and Maylene were faced with the rather troublesome task of entertaining to highly energetic, obnoxious blondes.

"We could go for a walk in the gardens," Maylene suggested. "Sebastian put in new flowers just last week."

"New flowers? Maybe I'll get some ideas for the wedding arrangements!" Lizzie hummed contentedly.

"I want to see my Ciel!" Alois whined melodramatically, draping himself over the table.

"I told you!" Elizabeth shouted possessively. "Ciel is my fiancée, not yours!"

"Yeah, yeah," Alois mumbled. "Gardens are for girls," he sighed.

"Why don't we play hide and seek?" Finnian piped in.

"Hide and seek? That seems awfully silly," Lizzie pouted. "I want to go see the flowers…"

"Can we really play hide and seek?" Alois' face lit up with glee.

"I don't see any reason why not," Bard answered, smiling.

"Come on, Lizzie! It'll be fun! Claude and I play all the time," the blue eyed boy sang happily.

"Well, alright," the young girl finally sighed.

"Excellent!" Bard exclaimed. "I'll be seeker first. Okay the rules are anywhere in the mansion is fair game. Seeker counts to fifty."

"Actually, second floor is off limits," Maylene countered. "Don't want to wake up the young master… First floor and basement only."

"Right," everyone agreed.

"And the game starts…now! One, two, three…" Immediately, the four scampered out of the room, scattering down hallways and staircases.


	4. Chapter 4

Sophia here! Yay! Finally some romance!

Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji is the property of Yana Toboso.

Warnings: Bloody scene. Yaoi. Mild language.

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><p><em><strong>When thorns pierce through and white bleeds red, tainted lips leave words unsaid. But lies become truths on tainted lips, and with a last wish, the master slips. Falling into memories where once an honest smile loomed, replaced now by a fateful smirk that marks it fallen victim doomed.<strong>_

Ciel woke, panting, from a horrendous nightmare.

"Is everything alright, Bocchan?" Ciel's mismatched eyes met a pair of crimson ringed pupils which displayed genuine concern.

"It's fine. Just a dream," the earl murmured. Realizing soon after he said this that the butler's face was mere centimeters away, a dusty shade of pink spread over the boys cheeks. "Uh…" Ciel looked down, face growing pinker. He heard the alluring sound of the demon's amused chuckles, becoming quite flustered. "What in god's name is so funny?" The young earl demanded.

"It's nothing really," Sebastian smirked. "You look awfully cute when you're flustered," the demon remarked.

"Wha—nonsense," the earl mumbled. After he had said this, a piercing scream sounded from the floor below, accompanied by the sound of breaking glass and several others shouting. "What the hell is going on!"

"Pardon me, young master. I'll attend to it quickly."

"Come back after you're through," Ciel yawned.

"Of course, Bocchan."

"Ah!" Maylene slipped from her hiding place on a large bookshelf, bringing several crystal vases down with her. They landed on the floor with loud cracks, shattering into thousands of pieces.

"I've got you!" Bard shouted, catching Maylene skillfully. It would have worked out far better, however, if Bard had not been carrying a candle. Maylene's dress immediately caught fire, causing Bard to drop her onto the shattered crystal.

"Put it out!" She screamed. The fire spread to the lavish Persian rug and eventually up the drapes.

"Time to fight fire with fire!" Bard exclaimed.

"Absolutely not." With a cup of tea, Sebastian doused the fire on Maylene's skirt and moved quickly to put out the rest of the flames. Hastily, he cleaned up the crystal shards and turned back to the two morons who had caused the mess. "I told you not to set anything on fire," he glared, icily.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Sebastian!" Maylene cried. "It was my fault. I fell from on top of the bookcase. Bard caught me, but he was holding a candle and well…"

"I really don't care," Sebastian snapped back. "You've disturbed the young master's rest. I'll deal with you later. For now, go back to the parlor and do not even think of moving from that room."

"Yes, Mr. Sebastian," the two replied grimly. Gracefully, the demon butler disappeared back up the stairs to Ciel's chambers.

"So what was it?" Ciel inquired.

"Nothing really. Maylene slipped again, and I'm afraid the vases from the Viscount of Druitt decided to come with her." The earl sighed, yawning. "Sebastian, how much longer until dinner?"

"A few hours, My Lord," the butler answered, a small smile gracing his lips. Ciel sunk back into the pillows, closing his eyes.

"Wake me up in another hour or two," he mumbled sleepily.

"Yes, My Lord," Sebastian smiled, bringing the sheets over the small boy's frame.

Ciel reentered his nightmare from before…

"You're soul is already damned," the angel whispered in his ear, "so why don't you just cooperate, hm?" Ashen blonde locks of hair fell over the earl's face, and a pair of lilac eyes met his own. "That eye says it all. But perhaps…" White silk spilled over the alter where the boy lay, bound by strips of blood soaked fabric. "You want your soul to be eaten by this demon."

"Just what are you suggesting?" Ciel hissed, eyes narrowing.

"Perhaps you care for this creature?"

"Don't be ridiculous," the earl spat. "That doesn't make any sense!"

"Oh, but it's true," The angel's eye lids close over her disturbingly bright irises.

"What the hell are you talking about!" Ciel shouted, demanding an answer.

"_Lies become truths on tainted lips, and with a last wish, the master slips_. What is this wish of yours, Ciel? Tell me what you wish for…"

"I can't… I can't remember what love feels like," Ciel whispered.

"You want to be loved, but you already are."

"No, I want… I want to remember how to love again."

"You want to love? That's easy enough," the angel smiled, brining a knife across her snowy white wrist. Thick, crimson blood dripped from the shallow wound that she brought to Ciel's lips. "Drink," she instructed. The young earl parted his lips, allowing the angel's blood to run down his tongue. It tasted very sweet, and it warmed Ciel's shivering form. Greedily, he sucked at the cut until he was satisfied, looking up to meet the angel's perfect smile.

"Bocchan, it's time to wake up," Sebastian whispered in the young boy's ear

"Hm…" Ciel sighed. He opened his eyes and sat up slowly. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Ciel noted how beautiful the demon's face looked, kissed by the orange yellow light of the setting sun. It cast heavy shadows on the left side of his face, but left his eyes gleaming like garnets. It slipped over his satin lips as they curved into a graceful, heat breaking smile. The young earl blushed slightly when the manner of his observations finally sunk in. Sebastian raised one perfect eyebrow in response. Ciel's blush grew deeper, and his heart beat slightly faster. _Why on earth do I feel like this_? He wondered.

"Is everything alright?" Sebastian leaned down so that their faces were level, and Ciel felt his heart leap, fluttering like a hummingbird's wings.

"Uh, I'm fine..." The earl felt the blood rush to his cheeks.

"You look a bit flushed, Bocchan. Are you feeling ill?" Sebastian's face displayed concern.

"No, I'm—" Ciel's face turned ruby red, "I…" The demon's lips parted slightly, only inches from his own, and Ciel felt himself lean in, pressing his lips gently against Sebastian's. If Ciel had ever thought the demon's lips looked soft, he now realized it was a serious understatement. Sebastian's lips pressed back against the boys, soft, warm, and sweet.

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><p>Yay! Chapeter finished! Please review if you want to give me feedback! Which I LOVE!<p>

I love you all!

Sophia


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Don't own Kuroshitsuji.

It's Sophia here! YAY! SebasxCiel fluff!

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><p>Sebastian pulled away from the boy, slowly, leaving a lingering warmth on the Phantomhive's lips.<p>

"Bocchan?" Ciel blushed at the handsome butler's voice, averting his eyes.

A slight knock sounded at the door, and Ciel silently thanked whatever being had created this distraction. Smirking, Sebastian stood up, straightened his tie, and moved to answer the door.

"Oh, Ciel!" Elizabeth came flying through the open doorway in a flash of pink ruffles, white lace, and limp curls. Alois followed behind, and the two proceeded to glomp the small boy.

"Ack! What on earth is going on? Get off me!" Ciel protested, trying to push the two blondes away. Neither would budge.

"My dear Ciel," Alois cooed.

"Ciel is mine!" Elizabeth shouted, bringing back the earl's migraine. Ciel winced. "Oh, I'm sorry Ciel. I didn't mean to yell so loudly, but I just can't stand him!" She cried, pointing to the boy who had, by then, encircled the young earl in his slender arms. Alois' head rested in the crook of the young Phantomhive's neck, and Ciel looked to Sebastian for assistance, noticing an unusual look on the butler's face.

_Funny… It almost looks like he's jealous_, Ciel thought. "Sebastian, can you please remove _this_," Ciel hissed, obviously referring to the blonde boy.

"It would be my pleasure, Bocchan." Sebastian stressed the word pleasure a bit more than necessary, confirming Ciel's previous theory. White gloved hands with long graceful fingers quickly freed the heir from the clingy orphan.

"But Ciel!" Alois cried. "I thought you loved me!" The young heir's head ached worse than ever.

"Where in hell did you get that idea?" Ciel spat, glaring into the boy's blue eyes.

"Well if you love Sebastian that much, then I'm just going to have to do away with him!"

"Wha—don't be ridiculous!" The earl shouted back, leaping out of bed. "That's not what—" As quick as he had denied it, Ciel shut his mouth. _Could I—no that's absurd_, the earl reasoned. _There's no way—I mean, that's not even possible…is it? Of course not, _Ciel's reasonable side answered.

"What's wrong Ciel?" Lizzie inquired. "You look kind of pale."

"It's nothing," the earl replied. "Now, if you wouldn't mind leaving my room, I think I'd like to dress now," he muttered.

"Oh," Lizzie blushed slightly. "Sorry; we'll go now!" The small girl turned to leave, pulling the blonde boy out the door behind her. Lizzie might be exhausting, but at least she disliked Alois as much as Ciel did.

When the two had gone, closing the door behind them, Ciel found himself alone with the butler again and instantly wished they had not left.

"Now," Sebastian began. "What would you like to wear to dinner, Bocchan."

"Uh, it doesn't really matter to me," Ciel murmured.

"Very well. I shall pick something then," the demon replied, opening the wardrobe. From it, Sebastian gingerly lifted a deep violet tail coat and a pair of ashy grey shorts that fell just short of the earl's knees.

Tenderly, the butler removed Ciel's nightshirt, letting his gloved fingertips brush gently over the heir's soft, fair skin. The Phantomhive shivered at the touch, feeling goose-bumps rise on the back of his neck.

Though barely present, the young boy's muscles were toned, and the demon found himself gazing at the shadowing on the earl's pale chest. Ciel, noticing this, blushed moving his eyes to the window.

Sebastian almost looked disappointed when he had finished dressing his master.

"I must begin dinner preparations now," the butler announced. "Is there anything in particular that you would want to have tonight?" Sebastian's voice came very softly, almost lovingly, a voice which sounded very foreign to the Phantomhive heir.

"Um… Not really," the young boy sighed faintly.

"Nonetheless, I promise you will enjoy this evening's meal." Sebastian placed his hand over his heart, a customary sign of respect, and bowed, turning to leave.

"Sebastian," the boy's voice came as a soft whisper, and crimson eyes flicked back to their master's childish face.

"Yes, Bocchan." For a moment, blood-red eyes locked on blue and purple, and neither spoke a word. Faithfully, the butler crossed back over to his master, lightly lifting the Phantomhive's chin with gloved fingertips. Ciel's cheeks flushed a rose pink as the demon slowly lowered his face only inches from his own. "I must admit that I find the innocent blush on your cheeks very attractive, Bocchan." Ciel felt the demon's cool breath glide across his skin, sweet as vanilla and caramel. The earl unexpectedly smirked.

"And I find sweet things very tempting," he breathed. Ciel raised one hand to the demon's shoulder, feeling a strong arm encircle his waist. Ever so gently, Sebastian pressed his lips to the boy's, watching as his eyes fluttered close in bliss.

Curiously, Ciel's tongue skimmed over the demon's bottom lip; Sebastian tasted of cinnamon and sugar. Blushing, the earl pulled away.

"I—well—" Sebastian cut off the boy's stammers, kissing the earl hungrily. Ciel gasped, and the demon's tongue slipped into his mouth, causing the boy to moan. The Phantomhive's grip tightened on the fabric of Sebastian's coat, the demon's hands pulling his master's small frame closer until they were pressed together from chest to thigh. Their tongues glided past each other, fiercely battling for dominance; however, the battle was short fought. Moments later, both pulled away, gasping for air.

Wrapped in Sebastian's strong arms, Ciel felt his heart flutter in his chest and the throbbing in his head subside. _Maybe_…Ciel thought.

Outside, the sun had begun to set over the English countryside, and it's light bathed the room in a vibrant golden orange. Ciel found himself marveling at the way it cast shimmering highlights on Sebastian's tousled black hair, and the demon admired the gold flecks it touched in Ciel's sapphire eye.

"Oh dear…" The butler sighed. "If I don't begin dinner now, it will be served late. And what kind of a butler would I be if dinner was late?" With a quick, tender kiss, Sebastian darted out the door and down to the kitchen, leaving Ciel to process the last ten minutes.

"It's so late! Where could Ciel be?" Alois whined. With a huff, the spoiled blonde plopped his head down in his arms and half-heartedly poked the leaves of a small Venus Flytrap. Startlingly, it snapped closed, and Alois yanked his hand away quickly. "The plant bit me!" He exclaimed.

"It's a Venus Flytrap," Finnian began. "The leaves close if you touch them. They eat flies, you see."

"That's disgusting!" Elizabeth shrieked. "These plants are creepy! When is Ciel going to come down?"

Wordlessly, the Phantomhive slipped into the tea parlor.

"Ciel!" Lizzie flung herself at the heir, knocking him off balance. He stumbled back into a chair, thankful that he hadn't been thrown onto the floor.

"Elizabeth," he growled. "This has to stop. One of these days I swear you're going to kill me!" The small blonde girl loosened her hold around his neck, and Ciel sighed in relief as he could breathe again. Then Ciel felt cold fingers curl around his neck, slipping playfully underneath his collar.

"We worried your headache might have come back…" The Trancy's words spilled from his lips like poison, his breath on the earl's pale neck.

"Get off me, Trancy!" Ciel shouted.

"Stay away from Ciel," Lizzie shrieked, still seated on Ciel's lap. She drew back a delicate hand and slapped Alois across the cheek. Alois drew back in pain, placing his spider-like fingers to the red splotch, growing on his fair complexion.

"Alright, that's quite enough." Sebastian's voice came smooth and composed amidst the ongoing chaos. "Firstly, Bocchan does not belong to anyone, and secondly, dinner is ready." Alois pouted, and Elizabeth climbed down from Ciel's lap, brushing the wrinkles from her lacy skirt and tucking away the stray strands of hair from her face. "Now, if you would all follow me to the dining room."

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><p>Review if you like! I live on feedback!<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

Sophia: Disclaimer time!

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Butler. *But I'd really like to own Sebastian...*

Grell: Sebby is mine!

Sophia: Leave. Now. *menacing glares*

Grell: AH! Sophia-chan is so scary!

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><p>Ciel plopped down onto his bed, drained from the evening's entertaining.<p>

"How in god's name can those two be so troublesome?" He sighed, taking in a deep breath.

"My Lord, I do not know," his butler answered. "Perhaps a hot bath would soothe your nerves."

"Hm. It doesn't sound like a bad idea," Ciel replied, yawning. They young boy closed his eyes and sighed. "But I want to go to sleep," the heir mumbled childishly.

"Well, you can't sleep in your day clothes anyway, Bocchan," the demon smirked. Growling and mumbling something inaudible, Ciel opened his eyes to glare at the butler.

"I might as well take a bath then," the boy mumbled. Upon standing, blood rushed to the earl's head and he stumbled clumsily into Sebastian's arms. With weary eyes, the heir looked up to the butler's flawless face.

"Bocchan, are you feeling alright?" The demon asked, brows furrowed.

"I'm fine, just tired," the earl replied. "There's still paperwork—"

"For the evening, I think it would be best if the earl bathed and caught up on his sleep, hm?" Sebastian bent down and placed a chaste kiss upon Ciel's parted lips. The young ear's eyes fluttered closed, and he leaned in. Sebastian's tongue slipped past his lips and through the earl's parted lips. Ciel moaned softly, pressing himself up against the tall, gorgeous demon.

It took all of five seconds for Sebastian to free the heir of his jacket, shirt, and necktie. They sat in a crumpled heap by the side of the earl's bed. Sebastian's own jacket, vest, gloves, and tie joined the pile. Pale, bare hands wound themselves into the earl's skilen black hair but soon moved. One arm around the boy's back, Sebastian pulled the heir down onto the bed, never breaking contact with his lips.

After a few minutes, the demon pulled away slowly. A small frown formed on Ciel's lips.

"If you really feel the need to finish the paperwork..."

"To hell with it," Ciel growled, pulling Sebastian's lips back to his own.

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><p><em><strong>Falling into memories where once an honest smile loomed, replaced now by a fateful smirk that marks it fallen victim doomed. When poison spreads and blue turns gold, memories leave tales untold. But curiosity unveils these curious and frightful tales.<strong>_

"Are you happy, Ciel?" The angel asked, draping its arms around the boy's narrow shoulders. "You have your wish after all…"

"My wish… I feel…love?"

"Surely, you know how you feel, Ciel." As the angel rested a pale cheek on the boy's head, its ashy blonde hair cascaded down around the boy's small figure, wrapping him in a warm white glow. Sliver fingernails glided over the boy's neck, leaving behind a trail of goose flesh on his skin. "You must know how you feel…"

"I don't understand…"

"Let me show you," the angel whispered. Brushing the boy's bangs away from his soft face, the angel placed a gentle kiss upon his forehead, and a frosty white glow enveloped the two.

A gentle breeze tickled wildflowers and made currents in the tall, green grasses, bringing the soft aroma of lilac and phlox. White clouds glided across a blue sky, and the sun cast a fiery glow from its seat on the horizon. From the blue skies, a couple emerged and descended elegantly to the ground, one a tall, proud man with a handsome face and black hair, the other, a graceful woman, light haired and smiling.

"Ciel," she whispered. "You've grown so much." The woman walked over to embrace the boy gently. "You have your father's hair," she smiled. "Vincent, he's changed so much." The man walked over to them, placing his hand on his son's hair.

"I have a feeling he's grown more than we know," the man said, ruffling the young earl's hair.

"Mother…Father…"

"Ciel, Ciel. We've missed you." Tears ran down the woman's cheeks.

"You can stay with them if you want to, Ciel." The couple, the flowers, and the sky disappeared, leaving only the white clad angel with the ashen hair. "You could love them again, you could leave that…demon behind," it hissed. Ciel's mind suddenly filled with memories of his faithful butler, saving him from Jack the Ripper, entering with news from the queen, rescuing him from the god awful rainforest tea party. His kisses…

"No; I'm going back." The earl's statement came in dead silence and pitch darkness.

"Unwanted, unholy, impure," it hissed. The voices came from all directions, terror streaking across Ciel's mind.

"It can't—" A hand snaked out behind him, latching onto the earl's shoulder. "Impurity," a voice grinned. "We will cleanse you of impurity. "Unwanted, unholy, impure," the being chanted, a sadistic smile upon its lips. More hands came, restraining the struggling boy.

"Se-Sebastian! Sebastian! Sebastian!" Ciel screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Unwanted, unholy, impure."

"Sebas—"A fist flew down from above, colliding with the earl's stomach; crimson streaked the man's face, and the young boy, choking on his own blood, let out cries of anguish. His breath came in shallow gasps. "Sebastian! Sebastian! Se—" A knife slashed through the earl's coat, leaving a line of blood running down his chest. An agonized whimper escaped the young Phantomhive's lips. Their hands ripped at his skin, nails breaking through, tearing the flesh back. "Sebastian!"

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><p>Ciel awoke, naked, on the cold, stone floor of a frighteningly small cell, parched and bleeding from numerous wounds on his body. Crescent shaped punctures ran the full length of his arms and several deep cuts sliced across his stomach and chest. When he took in a breath, Ciel felt a stabbing pain; they'd broken his ribs too.<p>

With trembling arms, the boy tried to prop himself up against the wall, but his small hands slipped on the damp stone surfaces, sending the weakened earl back into the floor where his head collided painfully with the wet stone. Several broken cries escaped him as a surge of pain flooded his entire body.

"Sebastian, this is an—"

"Still trying to summon that demon of yours? He can't reach you here. With a falsely placed smile, the white angel stepped into view, feathers falling to the floor from its bleeding wings. "Though I had a run in with him, and I must say that you've got quite the butler there."

"What? What did you—"

"I can assure you, your _love_ is fine. Well, he's not physically harmed…yet."

"It was you," Ciel spat. "You're the one who took my mother and father and burned the mansion to the ground." The angel smiled pleasantly.

"Oh, but it wasn't my doing; it was your parents'." The angel smiled, bringing a soft fingertip to its pale lips. A figure streaked blurrily into the boy's vision. Clad in black robes and hooded like the rest, it carried a white hot branding iron. With the other, bloodied hand it lifted the hood away from its head, revealing the merged faces of his mother and father, a smirk playing at its lips.

"Why… why… Sebastian!"

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><p>Hope you guys enjoyed! Oh no! What have I done to poor Ciel! Oh no! I have to fix this! That means I have to write another chapter soon ;)<p> 


	7. Chapter 7

It's been a while, it has. I'm truly sorry that I haven't updated for so long! I've been busy with god-knows-how-much schoolwork; it's positively dreadful...

Here's chapter seven! Hope you enjoy!

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><p>"Bocchan!" The contract mark in Ciel's eye burned painfully, sending waves of pain down his spine. With brutal impatience, the demon drove his nails deep into the angel's back and tore the two white wings from their body. Splitting screams echoed through the candle-lit dungeon, adding to the incessant, nauseating throbbing in the heir's head.<p>

"Se-Sebastian," the young heir whimpered, bringing his bloodied hands to his ears. "Please... make it stop…" Following a sudden sharp crack, the shrill notes abruptly ended, and Ciel's hands fell back to the stone below him. His breath came in shallow rasps, struggling to capture more oxygen as blood filled his lungs.

"Bocchan—" Sebastian cut off as a strange sensation washed over him. Finding himself immobilized, the demon hissed.

"It's too late," Ash laughed. "Too late now." Sebastian's eyes narrowed. "You thought you could kill me? Hah! This fight was over before it began. Know your place, demon," it spat. "It's not your place to interfere with the will of God."

"What are you—"

"God has a plan for everyone. For instance, this boy will become an angel," the heavenly being smiled, kneeling down beside the young boy as it changed to its female form. With maternal tenderness, the angel stroked his blue-black hair, beginning the transfer of angelic life to the boy's limp body.

"You bastard," Sebastian hissed. She merely laughed. "It's not your place to interfere with a contract. This boy vowed to give me his soul of his own free will. Maybe becoming an angel was his destiny, but his soul belongs to me now."

"Oh stop acting like this boy is the last meal you'll ever get. It's not like you can't find another—"

"Looks like you're stuck in quite a difficult spot, hmmm, Bassie?" Flashing an insidious smirk, the flamboyant, cross-dressing, red-headed shinigami strolled into the dungeon. "Now, if I rescue your little toy, what'll you do for me, Bassie?"

"I'll refrain from killing you," Sebastian growled, barring his teeth.

"Oh! You're just so handsome when you threaten me!" Grell pulled out his chainsaw, revving it. "I hope you know that you'll owe me quite a few favors for this," he smirked. The shinigami's crimson trench coat fluttered as his curiously strong arms threw the chainsaw in a wide arc, severing the angel's head. "They become completely immobile when they transfer themselves, did you know that?" The shinigami laughed. "If I hadn't shown up, she'd have had no problems, though…" The invisible bindings holding the demon broke, and he got to his feet slowly, for his limbs felt weak and he was very light-lightheaded.

"Oh, I forgot to mention: that spell would have sucked the life out of you if I hadn't shown up…" Grell smiled, revealing his deadly teeth.

"Why are you here anyways?" Sebastian groaned, lifting the earl's limp body gently into his arms.  
>"Well, usually we don't interfere with the affairs of angel's and demons; it's not our place you see," the shinigami commented. "But I felt your outright distress, and I simply couldn't help myself! Oh, William won't let me out of the office for a month! All that blasted paperwork! But I did it for you, Bassie. For you, I'd endure years of shelving cinematic records and filing death lists!" Grell dropped to his knees and proceeded to pray to the heavens that Will would not assign him to the file rooms. "And you will owe me greatly for this. A fool could see that that boy isn't just an afternoon snack to you…Oh, woe is me! Romeo has chosen another over his beautiful Juliet—"<p>

"Will you shut up!" The young heir blinked his eyes open. "There's no need to be so obnoxious."

"Bocchan," Sebastian looked down to find a new insignia on the boy's left eye. A seven pointed star stared back up into the demon's crimson gaze. Additionally, the boy's face had become substantially more beautiful (if such a thing were even possible). Goosebumps rose on Ciel's pale skin. Sebastian analyzed the heir's heartbreaking face for a moment and sighed, drawing the boy a bit closer to himself.

"I'll see you soon, Bassie!" The reaper stood, grinned, and promptly disappeared.

"Sebastian, take me home now." The young heir closed his eyes, resting his head gently against the demon's shoulder.

"Yes, my lord." Sebastian lifted the earl's hand gently to his lips and headed out the doors of the dungeon.

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><p>As it turned out, the complex had been built directly beneath the most populated region of London. Silently, the demon stepped out into the bustling nightlife of the city. Opera season was well underway; silk and fur-clad aristocrats filled the streets, their heels hitting the pavement with small clicks as they made their way from the opera house.<p>

"I can walk now," the earl sighed. Sebastian placed him down gently. Silently, the two continued.

Streetlamps cast their warm glow onto the streets, and vendors filled the square, for many customers frequented this place on performance days. Occasionally, Sebastian caught a snippet of chatter about the composer or one of the actors. With a start, Sebastian's trained ear caught a voice he recognized, a voice he really had hoped he would not encounter.

"Ah, the Earl Phantomhive," Lau hummed contentedly. "What brings you to London this evening?" Lau had changed attire for the evening. His usually unkempt hair had been slicked back, and he wore a black silk-lined suit with an indigo neck-tie. Ran Mao stood next to him, dressed in a long, embroidered, watery-blue cheongsam, split daringly high up the side so that it revealed most of her thigh. Her hair had been swept up into a single bun, high up on her head, and a single red rose was tucked into the side.

"I stopped here to visit Undertaker and ended up staying a bit later than I had planned."

"Well then, perhaps you'd like to stop in at my estate tonight. I'd been hoping for company tonight."

"I'm afraid I'm not properly dressed to be going anywhere tonight," the earl sighed. Ciel wore his casual green suit. "It's been a rather long day, and I still have paperwork to attend to."

"All the more reason to come, right Ran Mao?" He went on. "Why not let the paperwork wait a while, hm?" Lau smiled, opening his eyes ever so slightly.

"Very well," Ciel sighed. "It would be nice to take my mind off the day."

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><p>"Now then, where have you really been today?" Lau chuckled to himself, lifting his pipe to his thin lips.<p>

"I don't think I quite understand what you're asking," Ciel replied, a bit startled.

"Come now. If you'd been to Undertaker, surely I'd be bombarded with questions by now…You haven't heard of the new case yet, have you? Been at your vacation home, my lord?" Lau reclined on the sofa, grinning ear to ear.

"I'd hardly use that euphemism for the place I've been. But while you're in such a generous mood, what do you know of the current case, Lau?" The Earl of Phantomhive pouted, obviously dismayed by the need to obtain information from the drug-trafficking ambassador.

"Now, now, information is never free, my lord…But I suppose I am in a rather generous mood…"

"You're lucky I don't sell you and your opium den out," Ciel growled, growing agitated. "Just answer my question already; I'm tired of your games."

"Rumor has it that there've been some unexplained murders in the underground of London…"

"Go on," Ciel sighed.

"You expect me to know everything when I'm not even a direct source. Wouldn't you prefer to get the details from your beloved Undertaker, hm?" The heir gritted his teeth in frustration.

"Lau—"

"Good evenin' m' lord…" A familiar chuckle sounded in Ciel's ear, and two sets of black lacquered nails came to a rest on the boy's shoulders.

"It's nice to see you Undertaker. It's been a while," Lau greeted. "Please have a seat." Undertaker took one of the plush armchairs by the fire. With a sigh, he reclined, folding his fingers onto his chest.

"Well, it's nothing like my coffins back at home, but it's comfortable enough," Undertaker mused.

"May I offer you something to drink? I've quite a few imported liquors."

"Wine would be nice," Undertaker smiled. "Red of course." The silver-haired ex-shinigami let his eyes briefly take in his surroundings. Lau's den hosted a wide variety of oriental furniture and artifacts. A dim orange glow from the fireplace illuminated the main sitting area, and candles lined the walls, casting their light upon calligraphy hangings, and lavish loveseats. Smoke from Lau's pipe danced around the room in little streams, and the scent of opium thickened the air. Undertaker's eyes drifted to the beautiful Phantomhive boy. With his eyes closed, Undertaker thought the boy slightly resembled an angel. An almost silver glow hovered about his figure.

"Ran Mao, can you fetch me a bottle from the cabinet?" Silently, the Chinese beauty rose and drifted out of the room. "Now, let's discuss the case, shall we?" Lau smiled.

"There've been some wonderful corpses coming into my shop," Undertaker grinned. "All torn up, bloodied, burned even…and they're all children." The Phantomhive's eyes snapped open.

"Children?" Ciel inquired.

"Indeed. They go missn' for a while, then they show up dead in the river. There's one more thing though… They've all got a curious mark…" Ciel's eyes widened; he already knew the nature of these murders. He of all people knew. "It's a brand mark. Usually find 'em on the left side."

"It's them," the earl said quietly. "It's that blasted cult."

"You've seen this before then?" Lau inquired, a curious smirk playing at his lips. To Ciel's relief, Ran Mao reentered, carrying a green-glass bottle in one delicate hand and three crystal glasses in the other. Wordlessly, she handed out the glasses, one to Undertaker, one to Ciel, one to Lau. With inhuman grace, the small Chinese assassin uncorked the bottle and poured the red liquid into each of their glasses. Ciel watched as the wine cascaded down one side of his glass and splashed up the other. Not a drop was spilled.

When she had finished, the girl re-corked the bottle and placed it onto the side table, settling on Lau's lap. The young earl frowned in distaste and proceeded to sample the wine.

"Now then, will the Earl of Phantomhive entertain us with the events of his day?" The young boy tightened his grip on the crystal, staring steadily at Lau who seemed to take no notice of the boy's obvious uneasiness.

Grudgingly, Ciel forced a half-lie. "I've been in the underground of London today. I don't care to speak of it at the moment." Closing his eyes, the heir leaned back into the cushions, nursing at the intoxicating liquid in his glass. "It's been a long day," he sighed. A slight pink blush had set in on the earl's high cheeks, and Sebastian, who had been standing behind the sofa for the entirety of the visit, noted that it might be best to return to the mansion soon.

"I think it would be best if my lord retired home soon," Sebastian voiced. In his head, Ciel silently thanked whatever hint had finally gotten through the demon's thick skull. Of course, he had probably noted all of them, Ciel thought. The demon enjoyed playing with his food.

"Yes. It would be a shame if the earl woke up feeling ill," Undertaker chuckled. Being just fourteen, Ciel had a very low tolerance for alcohol. Very low…

"It's been quite a day, hasn't it Ran Mao?"

That night, Ciel barely slept. His mind wandered to the cult, the children. He saw himself, crouched helplessly in the corner, blood pouring onto the cold stone, into the murky puddles of condensation on the floors. He saw the angel and it's bloodied wings, the white of its gown stained with crimson. He saw his parents and their faces, sewn together.

When he slept, he dreamt of the flamboyant red-headed shinigami and of Lau and his unyielding smirk. He dreamt of Undertaker and his glass of wine… Of that ever present smile and the long, black, cotton robes he wore. Ciel dreamt of Sebastian too, and the night became, quite suddenly, more bearable.

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><p>Thanks for everyone who has reviewed! I love feedback, yes I do!<p>

Sophia


	8. Chapter 8

If any of my past readers are reading this right now... I thank you most earnestly. It has been a very, very long year for me, though that is no excuse for my lack of writing. I apologize for the wait and hope you enjoy this installment.

If you are a new reader, I hope my work is to your satisfaction, and that you will alert me of any grammar errors I have made, for I'm sure there is at least one.

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><p>Ciel's eyes fluttered silently open, his gaze adjusting to the sudden yellow mid-day light, which dripped in through the parted curtains, thick with dust, like a stream of honey dripping from a tea spoon.<p>

In the back of his conscious, he noted a slight throbbing in his head and mild nausea in his stomach, so, with a sigh, the earl let his eyes slip closed again, contemplating his current affliction. He decided it must have been the alcohol.

Moments later, one of the room's towering, mahogany doors clicked and swung soundlessly open, and Sebastian slipped quietly through. On his left hand rested a thirty-five pound antique silver tea set and tray, which he carried with conspicuous ease. In his right hand rested a glass vial filled with a murky greenish concoction. Sebastian, with no apparent trouble, set down the tea set and vial and moved to the windows, pushing open the heavy drapes and awakening an ever exhausted Ciel, who sat up, yawning.

"You drank quite a bit last night… Does your head hurt?" The butler's voice betrayed no emotion other than concern…This greatly dismayed Ciel.

"It was only a glass," the groggy earl snapped, glancing over to find a smirk on his butler's lips.

"But you don't feel well, do you, Bocchan?" This time, Ciel detected slight amusement in Sebastian's tone. It sounded more natural, more…more like it should.

"No, I do not feel quite well," the Phantomhive boy muttered, pouting. Sebastian retrieved the vial and effortlessly uncorked it.

"Here," the butler said, handing the small bottle to Ciel. "This should take care of the headache." Grimacing, Ciel took the vial and swallowed its contents, which tasted bitter and stuck in the back of his throat. He hated the sensation. Wordlessly, the demon butler passed Ciel his doubly sweet tea and proceeded to select the boy's attire. Without consciously choosing to, Ciel's eyes followed the demon's perfect figure, latching onto flickers of light on glossy, ebony locks; illuminated crimson orbs; long, nimble fingers; thin, white lips. A shiver traversed the boy's spine; never had his butler seemed so gentle before.

Ciel noted that the demon's unparalleled vision had located a single hole in the arm of a blue tail coat. With an almost heartbroken face, Sebastian pulled a needle and a spool of blue thread from the pocket of his waistcoat and set to work on mending the sleeve. His fingers worked meticulously, and his eyes never moved. Each stitch placed itself no farther than half a millimeter from its siblings, nor did any vary in length, width, angle, or pattern. They were all flawless, flawless as the demon himself.

Ciel caught a flash of brilliant white teeth as Sebastian tied off the stitches and cut the loose thread. Holding the coat to the light to examine his work, Sebastian stood, allowing the sun to bathe his full figure in a white glow. The demon nodded, satisfied.

A light blush settled itself high on the heir's cheek bones, and he immediately shunned it, averse to the childish countenance it lent his face. His butler appeared to take no notice; however, Ciel knew that he had, and for that, he loathed the arrogant bastard. Memories slowly rooted themselves, despite his best efforts, into his foremost thoughts, and, much to the Phantomhive's extremely apparent dismay, blood began to rush to his cheeks again.

"Hmph…" Ciel pouted, glaring at the floor.

With inhuman speed and grace, the demon lightly laid the tailcoat across the bed appeared by the boy's side.

"Whatever is the matter, Bocchan?" The demon's velvety voice resonated through the silver and through many of the crystal vases in the room. However Ciel had acted in the past, he would certainly not allow himself to become so swept away and hopelessly gushy again… Never.

"It's none of your concern!" Ciel stood and calmly strode to the window, gazing out onto his estate and praying that it would fight off any thoughts of the demon.

Of course it didn't… Not when the unsettlingly beautiful butler stationed himself over the earl's, a silent and stationary shadow, not when a single, perfect, gloved hand traced a feather-light, solitary stroke over the boy's slight but handsome jaw.

A multitude of obscenely bright images flashed across Ciel's vision, cascading waterfalls of white feathers, rivets of shimmering, crimson blood, lilac and cream tainted with death.

Kisses were the color of passion, the absence of thought, and a feeling so right yet so ridiculously improper and cliché. Goose bumps which traversed the entire length of his body could only echo the emotion which flooded every cell in his face, every crease which was too deep for a child's, every streak of pigment that welled like ink behind the glassy surface of his eyes, through the parting in his lips which spoke no words but screamed, professed his lack of control, something wild and beautiful and terrifying.

The seven pointed star in his eye pulsed with starry light. The sun was a single candle in comparison.

Crippling pain ripped through Ciel's back. It burned and seared and tore at his conscience and his flesh, clawing and pulsing, aching… And it was a thousand times…a million times… more...hotter than the pain in his side had been when first that shrieking hot iron seared into his flesh as the stinging of thousands of bees.

Piercing, deafening screams streaked across the space, colliding with the walls, strong enough to immediately shatter any glass, sending lethally sharp shards across the furniture, the carpet, the bed. Several windows broke, and a waterfall of transparent death tumbled down onto the demon, who had dropped to his knees, both hands clamped over his ears. Some unknown force provided a barrier around Ciel, preventing any of the glass from brushing his sheet-white skin.

All manner of feelings and colors and sounds wound and swirled and stormed through Ciel's conscious, and he was conscious, though he could not end the screaming, even knowing it would leave him voiceless for the next four weeks, perhaps longer. This sensation, which he knew could only be the most excruciating and raw pain perceivable, did not present itself as such, but rather as pure ecstasy.

Everything he had ever wanted to know pulsed in his fingertips, the wisdom of millions of years could be transmitted by the same pulses, arranged, rearranged, and stored. Meticulously drawn maps, composing the entirety of his race were written in strands, sequences of four different chemicals. All of these, he now understood, were not even visible to the eye.

His own butler… The demon's composition was nearly identical to his own… Ciel understood with shattering joy that whatever made he and Sebastian different was not, and would not be possible to see and comprehend in the course of a human life. One could not even measure the difference with his new lifespan; he was becoming something exceedingly more resilient, handsome, and threateningly wise.

Yet, in spite of all he had wished, in spite of all his joy, the incomprehensible code of what made Ciel who he was… Some invisible thread of signals rejected the entire transformation as vehemently as the infant Ciel had abhorred puréed vegetables, and this tiny fiber called out to Sebastian, pleading as pitifully as one of the sick, starved urchins whose hunger made them more animal than human as they crawled through the moldy slums of London, unmet by the smiling eyes of aristocrats. And Ciel felt rather like they would, as Sebastian did not answer his call.

Rage bubbled behind his eyes and coursed through him, tickling his nerves with initiative and power.

With this strength, Ciel decided, all at once, to stop his dreadful screaming, and as he did, the boy immediately felt his butler's strong arms encircle him.

An uncomfortable ache settled itself somewhere slightly above the earl's shoulder blades, a space which the boy realized with horror, his body should not occupy.

Slowly, the boy returned to full consciousness. He observed his surroundings, studied each sound, calculated the area of the surfaces where his and Sebastian's bodies touched, and explored the new nerves and muscles in his back.

Several more seconds passed, but each felt like an hour; the sheer amount of detail Ciel perceived in each was… unsettling for him to say the least.

Sebastian did not release him, not when echoing pounds met both of their ears, not when the voices of Finnian, Bard, and Maylene sounded with urgency, not when Bard (and this was now second nature to tell) hastily shoved a skeleton key into the latch and unlocked the door, and not when all three came tumbling through the it… nor when Tanaka silently appeared behind the fools.

What met the servants' eyes filled their stomachs with sickness, their minds with terror, and their eyes with disbelief. Glass covered every square inch of the floor, blood stained all the walls, and a mass of white feathers had settled over the entire scene.

Glued together, motionless in the center of the room, stood Sebastian and the young master, two massive, white wings protruding from his upper back. Fresh scars coated the skin surrounding where the wings attached; they had ripped their way through the earl's nightshirt. Fresh blood colored the white satin almost completely crimson.

Finnian noted a third puncture in the earl's clothing about two thirds of the way up the boy's left side. The shape and surrounding fabric indicated that it had been burned, and through the hole, freshly scarred tissue illustrated a strange brand mark. Finnian hadn't the slightest idea what the marking meant, but when Tanaka's eyes scanned over it, they narrowed, and his thin lips pressed thinner yet. The Phantomhive's previous butler said nothing of the marking, nothing of the blood, the feathers, or the glass, nothing of the earl's wings, and nothing of the inappropriate manner in which his master and his butler were standing; Tanaka opened his mouth, and, in several short words, gave his orders.

"Maylene, Bard, Finnian," he ordered, "clean this up."

Sebastian's eyes fluttered open as he lifted the earl's form gently into his arms, carefully navigating around his new wings. His narrow, cat-like pupils met Tanaka's enraged face for one moment before the demon butler, inhumanly strong and graceful, leapt through the broken window, shards of glass crunching under his feet, and out into the estate gardens, whose dewy leaves glowed like fiery diamonds under the setting sun. Tanaka watched silently.

Above the demon, clear twilight skies shone with the whispers of starlight. Ciel's figure seemed to echo their murmurs, enveloping the boy in a soft white blanket. Cradling the slight form of the half-angel's body in one arm, Sebastian pressed two fingers to the boys throat, exhaling with a sigh as he located a slow but steady pulse.

"Fancy meetin' you two out here…" Undertaker's purring voice cut through the clear night like a wet spoon through ice cream.

Sebastian turned slowly, unblinking. "And to what pleasure do we owe tonight's visit," Sebastian's bass tone answered.

"Well, I've been hearing lovely screams all day, and I couldn't help m'self… And now I understand… You've got quite the trouble on your 'ands, don't you?" Sebastian didn't answer. "But we're wastin' time then." A haunting smile flashed across the ex-shinigami's face. "Better be off before that angel's soul consumes 'im." Undertaker chuckled darkly, dragging a black-lacquered fingernail across the space in front of him. The line contorted and ripped open, a blinding white tear in the fabric of reality. Three forms disappeared into the gap and it closed, seamed back together by the absence of power. "So… Tell me about this angel of yours," Undertaker inquired. Sebastian sighed. Ciel's eyes were closed; he'd most likely passed out from the pain long ago. "From the looks of 'im." Undertaker was of course referring to Ciel. "We're dealin' with a powerful one… I'm guessin' it was the same one that formed a contract with the queen a few months back." The two were now making haste through a dimly lit corridor.

"You assume correctly," Sebastian answered, coldly.

"Only one thing to do then." In the shadows, an enormous smile stretched across Undertaker's thin, handsome lips.

"And what would that be?" Sebastian asked, his chilling voice tense.

"It's quite simple really… Separate their souls and destroy the angel's. 'Course I can't do the second part …but you can."

"You mean to tell me that a death god can't exterminate an angel?" Sebastian hissed.

"Well yes… and no. We can destroy their bodies, but they regenerate. You see, our scythes are made to part souls from whatever they're attached to. When an angel's soul is detached, it seeks out the nearest body and feeds off of it… They're parasites." He paused for a moment and then continued. "Demon's feed off of souls. They're the only thing that can destroy 'em." Finally, the two reached a pair of double doors. Undertaker halted. "There's one little complication though..."

"And what would that be?" Sebastian's eyes narrowed.

Undertaker remained silent for a moment. "That angel isn't just going to let you eat it…" Black fingernails threaded around the handles and brought the great doors open in a smooth, symmetrical, fluid movement.

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><p>Thank you again.<p>

Yours,

Sophia


	9. Chapter 9

Well hello again. It is I, Sophia. You know what's really awesome? What's awesome is the second that you realize that the events of the chapter you have just written perfectly reflect the title of your story that you began the previous year, having no idea of where it would go. And the more awesome part is realizing that you had no idea that they correlated until you went to upload the chapter.  
>Enjoy<p>

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><p>Silence was all that awaited the two on the other side of the doors, silence and blinding light that coated every surface like dust on an ancient piano. Black and white marble comprised the entire floor, an enormous chessboard.<p>

Undertaker let loose a maniacal chuckle. "Well, this is new," the shinigami laughed.

"Where is this?" The demon's eyes narrowed. Despite his inquiry, no answer came from the silver-haired legend. "Perhaps your ears have gone, Undertaker, but I believe it is common courtesy to provide an answer if one is in possession of such," Sebastian hissed, displeased with their lack of progress and his masters declining wellness.

"We're inside 'is soul of course," the shinigami answered, nodding towards the motionless form draped across Sebastian's arms. "We 'ave been for the last hour…" Sebastian let out a low, inaudible hiss.

"So then what now?" The demon questioned.

"Now… we part that angel from your companion," Undertaker chuckled. For once, the demon did not understand.  
>"If I'm not mistaken, you said we were <em>inside<em> bocchan's soul…"

"It's not as if you could compre'end in the first place," Undertaker smirked. "And it isn't your place to know, really." Sebastian's hand locked around the ex-shinigami's throat, iron in grip, ice in flesh.

"I'd watch your mouth, or do you not understand whom you are dealing with?" The demon's eyes narrowed to slits and widened again as he felt the cold edge of metal against the back of his own neck. A feral smile stretched across Undertaker's lips.

"I'd watch your own neck first. Didn't give myself that scar, you know?" Sebastian snarled fiercely, releasing his hold. Smoothly, Undertaker whipped his scythe back into place, where it rested, a killer crescent, over his head. "And 'ere we are." The man's long, silver hair rippled with the goose bumps that traversed his scalp. Sebastian's eyes traveled down to a single marble basin. Within it, an orb rested, its surface crawling like thousands of insects.

With superhuman precision, Undertaker raised the scythe and brought it down directly across the sphere's center.

With a flash of light, the orb divided into two, one white, one black. "Your sweetheart is quite the fighter," Undertaker laughed.

"What are you talking about?" Sebastian growled, half annoyed, half startled. The white sphere shattered into a hundreds of tiny fragments.

"You should focus more on that angel of yours," the shinigami warned in a most amused voice. "But you should know what happens when our scythes touch a human soul…" Cinematic records. Sebastian wrinkled his nose, but paid the reaper no mind for the shards had begun reforming, the new shape inhuman, yet frighteningly beautiful. "I'll watch your beau for you," Undertaker offered. Wordlessly, Sebastian placed Ciel's form in the basin, gazed a moment at the boy's face, and silently lowered his lips so that they barely brushed his masters, noting their freezing temperature.

"Touching," Angela's cold voice rang, clear and piercing. "How is it that a demon could fall in love, I wonder…" Cat-like in movement, Sebastian approached the demon, crimson eyes burning with rage, pulling off his white gloves.  
>"Bocchan's soul isn't yours to tamper with, parasite," the raven haired man spat, pulling several knives from his pocket. The demon's powerful arm swung in a perfect arc, but the angel intercepted him, blocking the blades with a diamond encrusted dagger. She then threw a slash back at him, nicking his cheek. A thin line of blood formed on the demon's face. Angela's perfect lips turned up at one corner, silently mocking him. Lightening in speed, the demon aimed several jabs for her stomach, which she sidestepped, slashing the edge of her weapon and cutting cleanly through the polished silverware.<p>

"I'm afraid it was _you _who interrupted my ritual, scum," she laughed, white hair shimmering. For several seconds, the demon launched consecutive, lethal attacks, which Angela avoided all too easily. One of the demon's attacks, however, caused her to raise her left arm far above her head. Hissing in pain, the angel lifted one hand to her shoulder blade. "That transformation was painful for me too, you know." Her tone changed to that of disgust. The dagger in her hand elongated to form a short sword. "That pain wasn't really necessary—" Sebastian barely circumvented the bite of her blade, whose movement would have lopped off his right leg, had it intercepted. "You should ask that love of yours for a weapon," she taunted. Images of a weapon flashed across his subconscious. Instantaneously, a flawless replica of the demon sword appeared in his hand.

"You would have turned Bocchan into a pathetic maggot like yourself; now you'll die for his suffering." Sebastian smirked, giving the perfectly balanced blade a turn. With each flick of his wrist, the sword responded with brutal force, almost sentient itself. "Your god will be pleased… Dying just as the Savior; what an honor." Boldly, Sebastian threw the blade against Angela's, causing one of the diamonds in the angelic weapon's hilt to break loose. It fell to the floor, producing a high-pitched chime as the faceted surface collided with the veined marble. Her face contorted with pain as the muscles in her back flexed.

"Much as that would please me," the angel mused. "I have yet to fulfill that boy's wish… All he wanted was to know what love felt like," she pleaded. "But a demon can't love, and you know that. I will return him to his parents, to his family." Having recovered shortly, Angela retuned a wildly powerful blow that sent the demon staggering back several feet. "If you do love that boy, then you'll let him be happy!" Her voice raised to a scream, shattering in volume. It sliced at Sebastian's flesh, many times sharper than her blade. Several deep gashes opened up along the full length of his body, prompting a savage growl that resonated from deep within the demon's throat.

"When I contracted that boy, he knew fully what he was doing!" Sebastian roared. "So I'll tell you again," the butler threatened; shimmering, the demon blade flashed to a straight line above his head. "It isn't your place to interfere!" With barbaric strength and savage will, Sebastian brought the blade down, slicing cleanly through the Angel's blade and carving a crimson streak down the entire length of her torso. The gnarled green blade screamed, shattering into thousands of razor tipped shards which joined the angel's blood, painting a fresco of death and pain on the massive checkered canvas.

Both weapons eradicated, the two slammed into each other, their blood mingling as fingernails pierced and sliced into skin. A well-placed kick shattered several of the demon's ribs, and he groaned at the aching that spread through his chest. Angered, Sebastian threw the angel to the floor, savoring the satisfying snap that her wings gave as she landed heavily upon them. Angela released a shriek of pain before she picked herself back up and landed a punch squarely across Sebastian's cheek, leaving a large, rapidly swelling welt that throbbed, purple from the damaged blood vessels. "Leach," the demon hissed, before throwing his fist into her ribcage. Several bones snapped with a sickening crunch. The angel's breathing grew labored as her punctured lung filled with blood.

"You think you've won, but you haven't," she choked between blocking his attacks. "That boy will die anyways; the reaper's scythe already touched him!" Then she laughed, coughing up a mouthful of gleaming blood. Enraged, Sebastian snatched a shard of green from the floor and shoved it through her heart. "You lose," Angela whispered as her eyes slipped peacefully closed.  
>The image collapsed into a vial, filled to the brim with clear liquid. Exhausted, Sebastian lifted the bottle into his hand, pulled the stopper from it, and downed the contents, shivering as the liquid traveled down his throat, freezing like ice.<p>

Sebastian turned to find a deathly pale Ciel still unconscious in the basin, his royal blue coat stained black with liquid that overflowed the shallow bowl and spilled onto the floor.

The reaper was gone.

No trace of the black sphere remained.

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><p>It started with a dream, and it will end with a dream. How ridiculously poetic, don't you think?<p>

Until the next chapter, happy writing/reading, all.

~Sophia


	10. Chapter 10

Well, as I near the end of this story I am constantly astounded by the way all of these elements fit together like puzzle pieces...

I think this is perhaps the level of subconscious planning that real authors have... At least... I hope it is... Because that would be really, really, astoundingly, amazingly cool.

Praise and constructive criticism are always welcome.

Also, I know it's a mainstream pop song, but I strongly recommend listening to "Lights" by Ellie Goulding while reading this.

For the last three chapters it's the only song I've listened to while writing... I've probably listened to it over a hundred and eighty times in the last couple of weeks; I can get a bit obsessive... But this song seriously inspires my writing. It puts me in a kind of trance, and before I know it, there are five pages of writing staring back up at me from the computer screen.

I hope you enjoy. It was my pleasure to write this.

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><p>"Bocchan?" Sebastian approached slowly, unwilling to trust his eyes… From a distance, the boy might have been sleeping, but the demon's eyes did not lie to him; the figure within the basin remained still, silenced by the hand of death. "Damn it…" With despairing eyes, Michaelis ripped the glass bottle from his pocket, fumbling with the stopper, which felt like lead in his hands.<p>

He allowed the vial to fill to the top with the blackness which overflowed the basin, emptying it into the boy's mouth when it did. Ciel's eyes fluttered open, milky and dead, and then closed again. His body remained rigid and motionless as the stone he lay upon.

Hours slipped into the unending darkness… Countless times, Sebastian had refilled the vial. Countless times, the demon had poured Ciel's broken soul back into him. Countless times, the boy's eyes had opened, only to snap shut again, each blink killing a sliver of the demon's hope until Sebastian's perfectly sculpted form collapsed onto the marble below, his graceful limbs forced into gruesome, painful bends.

Stained with black, the clear crystal vial slipped from his hand and shattered, joining the rest of the precious materials strewn about the floor with a radius of about sixty feet in every direction.

And despite all the wealth that had been conjured up, all the heavenly blood which stained the white, white marble red for the sake of the young earl, not a breath entered the boy's lungs, not a whisper graced his figure. And Sebastian, though he loathed human sentiments and philosophies, found that, upon seeing the boy's body, there were too many words he had left unsaid; that every rule, every law, every nature had at least one fault, one exception; that equal or greater tragedy accompanied every last smile, every last note of happiness.

Ciel's wish... that childish weakness had come back and obliterated him, for this was the fate of all humans; this was the bitter aftertaste that accompanied even the finest of dark chocolate truffles.

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><p>Rest, rest and peace at last… It was not Ciel's wish to wake. Ciel did not want to… Ciel refused to… And yet, the lurking anxiety that forewarned nightmares stole into his peace, rousing the tender boy from his sleep, and a hauntingly familiar landscape glided into being.<p>

Sheet-white snow blanketed the world in youth's purity, in breathtaking, diamond hue. Before him, the knotted branches of wilting rose bushes clawed their way up to the watery blue sky, climbing a labyrinth of angry black hedges. They spoke in hisses.

"Dead you are. Death and ice. Pain and anguish are your price. Your wish ungranted, your knight still breathes… And for your mangled soul he grieves."

**When thorns pierce through and white bleeds red**

When their deadly thorns tore into his flesh, Ciel did not cry out, did not beg, but rather, allowed his memories to fill him with unquenchable desires. How he longed for his warm bed; a cup of boiling, earl grey tea with lemon; a slice of crisp, apple tart; a hot cinnamon roll drenched in rich, buttercream icing…

No. No culinary confection was sweet enough—nothing was sweet enough to satiate his longing… Save the kiss of a certain demon butler, to which no artfully prepared desert could compare. Ciel craved the demon's touch, the clarity of mind that those kisses brought; Sebastian's affection sought out his pain and wrenched it away, healed the wounds, erased the doubts, banned the worries… If for even one moment…If for only one moment Ciel could saver that sensation again, he thought he would happily endure this hell for the rest of eternity.

In his mind's eye, Ciel gazed upon the memories of Sebastian, a great many of his observations pertaining to the demon's lips, their movements as he spoke, and the sounds that each motion produced. Yet, with every flawless recollection of each and every shape, every movement of the Sebastian's tongue, with all the hours of careful listening and matching, Ciel could not forge the memory of a particular phrase, and because this seemingly simple task was deceptively, obscenely arduous, the earl let it consume every fiber of his conscious and subconscious.

**Tainted lips leave words unsaid.**

For all his strenuous effort, memory, and inspiration, the raven-haired heir procured one cheaply imitated sound, one cursed melody, one lying string of words, neither accompanied by images, nor confirmed by instincts.

**But lies become truths on tainted lips**

"Pitiful that you should die before I even told you I loved you," Sebastian murmured to the boy's frozen face. "**...And with a wish, the master slips…** You're weak… And I'm weak too, I suppose." The demon cleared his mind, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips lightly upon Ciel's.

**Falling into memories **

"All those moments, all those times I promised to fulfill my duties…only to have you die before I could avenge your pain," Sebastian cursed, allowing the past to overwhelm him with memories.

One image, above all else, threw the demon into sheer, raw, unparalleled agony.

**Where once an honest smile loomed**

Once in all the years he had served his young master and only once, Ciel had smiled. What dizzying beauty, Sebastian mused, worthy of angels…worthy of God himself.

**Replaced by now a fateful smirk **

For that one genuine smile, Ciel had given hundreds of fakes, thousands of imitations to satisfy the all-devouring eyes of the general public.

Sebastian blinked to clear the liquid from his eyes, disgusted that he had only caught a glimpse of that beauty once. Michaelis had agreed to answer to his master's every whim. He'd cooked, cleaned, calculated, killed for his master, yet Sebastian had never given the boy happiness, and, as if to mock his agony, Ciel's gentle smile appeared in his vision then warped into a grim, haunting replica.

**That marks its fallen victim doomed.**

Sebastian loathed himself. He was not, could not, and would not ever be human; the demon never should have felt the whisper of love at all. He was a failure, an abomination, a victim to his own ignorance; the notion of satisfying his own appetite had lost its appeal long ago.

**When poison spreads and blue turns gold**

Ciel let his eyes open again, writhing uncontrollably in the pain that saturated the fibrils of his muscles and bore into his bones, maggots in a corpse.

Venom from the deadly thorns seeped into his blood vessels and burned through his body like blue flames. _Why must it always be this way? Why must I end every day with a pain more excruciating than the next? Why… Sebastian…why?_ Hot tears rolled down his burning face, leaving sweet, merciful trails of ice behind on his pale cheeks.

Through the earl's distorted vision, a multitude of surreal colors flooded. Among them were vibrant shades of red, piercing whites, neon blues, and one enormous streak of orangey-yellow on the horizon that marked the setting of the sun.

_If this is Hell_, Ceil mused, _it's oddly beautiful._

**Memories leave tales untold**

A thought occurred to the Phantomhive quite suddenly. _Perhaps Sebastian killed the angel… And if he did, he must have taken my soul… Perhaps I am being digested by a demon. _

_Ridiculous, _another part of Ciel retorted, unwilling to accept the possibility; the boy had always been stubborn.

Time passed, and a great number of baffling theories crossed the Earl's clouded mind, most, improbable, many impossible. In the end, Ciel decided that his soul must have been consumed, and so he smiled. Laughed even.

**But curiosity unveils**

And then he woke up to find his best tail coat ruined and his butler unconscious on the checkered floor of a capacious chamber. Blood and crystal and diamonds, precious metal, ink (he assumed) and shards of some unknown yet dazzling green gem littered the floor and depicted a gruesome, gory death-match, the likes of which Ciel thought would make for excellent entertainment; he pitied having not seen the fight play out.

The earl groaned, noticing a growing ache in his back; he looked down to find himself draped across a wide but shallow, raised, stone basin. Inky liquid consumed any space that he himself did not, and it spilled over the brims when he shifted. Sore and stiff, Ciel leaned up and moved to perch the edge, where he sat at a safe but not-quite-comfortable distance from the ground.

_This is far too troublesome_, the Phantomhive boy decided, judging whether or not he should attempt to climb down by himself.

"I think you'll have an easy enough time getting off of there by yourself," a voice, smooth and velvety, called, startling Ciel from his temporary dilemma.

The face that accompanied this sensual sound matched it perfectly yet left Ciel speechless. The man had inconceivably beautiful features… A single, jagged scar began at the left side of his forehead, crossed his left eye and the bridge of his straight nose, and continued across his right cheek.

Behind the man's thick, black lashes rested two gold-green orbs. "You should laugh more; it's quite an attractive sound," the silver-haired shinigami mused.

"Undertaker?" The man turned and flashed the Phantomhive a brilliant smile.

"At your service, My Lord," the shinigami answered. "Now why don't we wake up your lover, hm?" Ciel's adrenaline spiked, causing the boy's words to stick in his throat like glue. Before the heir could reclaim control of his own body, Undertaker had reached the basin. "Waiting for that angel to come help you down?" the shinigami chuckled. "Well it's dead, so you're going to have to jump. Trust your limbs; I think you'll find them a bit more durable than before." Peeved, Ciel released his death grip on the marble and allowed his form to slip from the edge, landing painlessly, elegantly, and silently in the very center of a black tile.

Confused, the Phantomhive flexed and released each of his muscles, monitoring their new power and documenting the increased control he felt. He crouched down beside Sebastian's crumpled figure, observing an increase in balance and coordination as he did so, and laid a hand on the demon's soft, flawless cheek. Sebastian's eyelids glided open, and a pair of crimson irises met his, identical in shape and color to Sebastian's own.

With his right hand, the demon butler propped himself up and adjusted his position so that his back rested against the cool marble of the basin. His left hand came to a rest on top of Ciel's, pressing it firmly against his face. A moment passed before the demon released it.

When he did, Ciel drew back his entire arm, and, with tremendous and inhuman force, slapped Sebastian cleanly across his face, conveying rage and agony, revulsion and pity, love and hate, all in one action.

The snap of skin against skin bounded through the marble and sprung off the walls, producing hundreds of smaller echoes. Undertaker's deep, sonorous laugh joined them.

Collectedly, Sebastian turned back to meet his master's gaze, captured the earl with a skillful arm, and drew their bodies together, trapping the boy's lips in a wanting, urgent, passionate kiss that assured Ciel (if he hadn't known already) that the beautiful man whose arms encircled his waist was, indeed, a sinful shadow of hell, a terribly gorgeous demon.

And Ciel returned the kiss with yet more longing, more need, more intensity, willing their two beings to merge and become one of the same.

"If you two could postpone your affections for a moment or two," Undertaker, who was now nursing a glass of red wine, advised, "It would be best if we left this chamber before it becomes unstable."

The shinigami smirked, chortling to himself as Sebastian rose with commendable agility for his state, Ciel wrapped protectively in his arms. As the boy's personality commanded, Ciel objected vociferously.

"I can walk, you know. I'm fully capable of moving at your pace now," the heir whined.

"Not quite," Sebastian smirked. "You still have a ways to go before you'll match me in any way…"

"What gives you the right to speak to me like I'm a child?" Ciel raised his voice considerably. In turn, Sebastian's smirk grew ever larger and more arrogant.

"Bocchan," he whispered in the boy's ear. "I am at least forty-eight hundred years older than you are; I'll ask you to give me at least another fifty to adjust."

Ciel sighed, accepting with relative ease that he would not win the argument. Surprisingly, this fact did not agitate him. "How much time has passed?" He inquired boyishly.

"Not more than a few hours for the humans," Undertaker chuckled. "They'll probably still be working on the earl's bedroom when you two get back," he thought aloud and began laughing again.

"What's so funny?" Ciel's lips formed a pouting frown.

"Now that you're a demon, I'll say this," the shinigami answered. "Humans are truly a pitiful and sick existence."

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><p>Hope you all enjoyed. Review if you feel like it. It won't hurt my feelings if you don't, but it will boost 'em if you do 3<p>

Happy reading to you all.

One chapter left... I can't believe I went through this so quickly.

Well, for those of you who have stayed with me for all ten steps of the journey, I thank you immensely.

And for those of you who are new, I thank you for your reading and support as well.

is truly a wonderful place.

Love you all

~ Sophia


	11. Chapter 11

So... This was supposed to be the last chapter... But it's five pages... And I haven't wrapped up all the loose ends.  
>Tanaka gets to talk in this Update; I hope you all like that.<p>

So... I'll see you in Epilogue Part 2 I guess...

Enjoy

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><p>When the three emerged again in the human world, Ciel was still pondering Undertaker's words from the safety of his butler's arms. Slowly, lines were forming between the many, many dots.<p>

"And here we are safe and sound back in the human world." Undertaker's voice reverted to its previous state, high and obnoxious with a prevalent cockney accent. Ciel had many questions for Undertaker, many questions for Sebastian, and god knows how many problems to deal with in order to quiet the public and safely disappear back to the underground where he belonged. It seemed that, demon or not, there was always another mystery to solve, another mouth to gag, another criminal to catch, and another personal problem to deal with; this fate, he knew, he could never hope to escape. "And I think I'll take my leave now. Don't lose that pretty laugh of yours now that you're immortal," Undertaker chuckled. "It would be tragic if I never got to hear it again." The stubborn Phantomhive frowned and sighed.

"Good Morrow, Undertaker," Sebastian hummed, continuing on towards the manner.

With a last peal of laughter, the ex shinigami slashed his hand across the nothingness in front of him and disappeared back into the dark.

"Are you ever going to put me down?" Ciel shouted.

"I do not intend to," the butler answered slyly. "You know," Sebastian speculated, smirking. "You are almost like a cat…" Sickness and horror crept into Ciel's face.

"What on earth are you talking about," the earl retorted as composedly as he could.

"Well, you enjoy sleeping and napping," Sebastian began. "You're quite picky about food, don't enjoy the presence of clingy children…"

"Who would?" Ciel sighed in a disgusted tone and then allowed Sebastian to continue.  
>"Arrogant—"<p>

"What was that!" Ciel roared, squirming and thrashing violently. Sebastian's grip tightened around the smaller demon boy, whose cheeks had become quite red, his pupils narrowing to lines.

"Nothing Bocchan," the demon butler hummed contentedly. "You enjoy hunting, and you don't like to be picked up and held…though…" Sebastian's smirk grew wider. "You seem to enjoy being _pet_ well enough." The earl's blush grew heavy, his face more embarrassed than angry, and, though Sebastian had no place saying so aloud, he did not contradict the man's statement, nor did he struggle, preferring to close his eyes turn his head in the other direction. It was humiliating, yes, but what else had he expected, really?

Sebastian halted outside the front doors of the estate manor. "Well, you have a choice to make," Sebastian started. "You can enter alive or dead…"

"What do you mean?" The statement confused Ciel. Cautiously, Sebastian lowered his voice to a whisper. "In your current state, you won't be able to pass as a human, and there'll be explaining to do in any case…" Ciel vaguely remembered the transformation, mostly because of the excruciating pain it had caused him; Sebastian's offer began to make sense.

After a moment's thought, the boy answered, "I'd prefer to walk into my house alive," hinting at another desire as well.

"Alive it is then," Sebastian smiled but made no move to put the earl down on his own feet. Noticing Ciel's dismay, he followed up with, "just try to bear with me," and smirked contentedly, flashing his too-white teeth while pushing open one of the massive front doors with ease.

"Young Master…" It was Meylene who greeted them first. She'd left her fiery hair down and removed her glasses, exposing a pair of massive, amber eyes. Additionally, the maid had abandoned her uniform, opting for a tight-fitting black ensemble. Two handguns rested at her waist, and a rifle was strung over her back.

Bard was next in line. Like Meylene, he was clad in all black and similarly equipped.

Finnian followed, his signature barrettes absent, leaving his untidy blonde bangs to fall into his face. "Is he alright?" The young blonde questioned.

"Perfectly fine," Sebastian reassured them.

Tanaka appeared in the corner of Ciel's peripheral vision, dressed in solid black, a katana at his hip. Wordlessly, the house steward closed the remaining distance to them, and, in a flash of silver metal, drew the Japanese blade, laying its edge on the exposed skin of Sebastian's throat.

"You'd have to be a bloody glock if you think any of your actions were or are acceptable," Tanaka growled dangerously.

Ciel opened his eyes—both of them—throwing a lethal glare at the Japanese butler, whose own eyes immediately narrowed.

Tanaka did not lower the weapon, however; annoyed, Ciel brought a tiny palm against the sword and took it in his hand. The steel blade released earsplitting screams as it bent backwards and the distance between it and Sebastian increased. To emphasize his point, the young boy clamped down hard on the cold metal, leaving behind five, half-inch-deep dents. Tanaka dropped the ruined weapon. "So it ends with you, Ciel. I had a feeling it might." Calmly, the aging butler turned his back on them. "Follow me into the study, all of you. I have much to say… Unless," Tanaka cut in, "you'd like tonight to sleep." This was of course directed at Ciel.

"Thank you, but it won't be necessary," the young Phantomhive returned.

Ciel examined the condition of his manor as Sebastian carried him up the estate's hundreds of stairs. Most of the rooms were in a state of terrible disarray, and Ciel knew this because many of the doors had been broken down or carelessly left open.

Glass, feathers, and splintered wood cluttered the floors, and hundreds upon hundreds of books lined the hallways. The heir could have cared less, for Sebastian, he knew, was more than capable of making timely repairs.

When the six reached the doors of the study, Ciel discovered why Tanaka had opted for that room. Unlike the rest of the house, the study had, miraculously, retained its pristine beauty, not a portrait crooked or a single pen displaced.

An antique mahogany desk stood proudly in front of the towering glass windows. Four plush arm chairs angled in towards it, and one taller seat sat majestically behind the work surface. Five chairs in all. Just five.

Ciel immediately foresaw the outcome of this shortcoming, and, try as he might, he knew his fate had been predetermined.

Surely as the sun would raise the next day and the moon the next night, the young earl ended up on his butler's lap in one of the large, sultry armchairs. Tanaka had pushed the desk to the side of the room with disquieting ease, so that the five seats formed a circle. When the three servants seated themselves, Tanaka began.

"I have been in this house for thirty-nine years; in that time, I have served three earls; you, Ciel; your father, Vincent Phantomhive; and his father, Michael Phantomhive, and it was he who began this nightmare.

"Sixty years ago, after the death of his father Nicholas, Michael Phantomhive inherited his family's name and duties. At this time, the earl was twenty years of age, handsome, and engaged to Miss Lydia Thompson, only child of the Earl Thompson. She was fourteen years of age, rich, well mannered, intelligent, and beautiful, but even being as lovely as she was, Michael did not take the slightest interest in her. He preferred, instead, to keep his nose tucked away in the many religious books he had collected from his early travels.

"When I came to serve in this estate, the two had been married little under a year, though already, Lydia was with child. Her first born, a girl, given the name Charlotte after Lydia's late mother, died three months later of pneumonia.

"Their second child, a son, passed within the hour, and though Michael showed no outward notice, he endured horrific trauma and night terrors. He worried constantly that the Phantomhive name would die along with him.

"Finally, five years into their marriage, Lydia died giving birth to a second boy, whom Michael named Vincent. In the course of three months, Michael hired and fired eighteen wet-nurses, had seven affairs, and became an alcoholic. He spent the night in taverns, kept company in the evenings, and wasted most of his fortune on extravagant gifts that he bought for his many mistresses.

"The night of his son's first birthday, Michael, the Phantomhive fortune gone and his estate in shambles, became hideously drunk and threw a silver platter at the nurse, mortally wounding her; she died the next morning.

"When the effects of his drinking wore off, Michael went into a state of self-destructive guilt, slitting his arms with the kitchen knives and pulling off his fingernails with a pair of garden pliers.

"Twelve days and seven hundred cuts later, the angel Angela appeared to him. In exchange for the next born heir to the Phantomhive name and ten years of his own life, Angela granted Michael numbness from his grief, clarity of mind, a fortune twelve times the size of what he had been born into, and her own service. He went as far as to marry her the next month, and she remained his wife for eighteen years until she killed him according to their contract and disappeared, leaving Vincent heir to the Phantomhive name." Tanaka paused, stood, and walked over to the desk. Knowingly, he turned the handle of the top-left drawer clockwise, unlatching the hidden drawer above, from which he procured a bottle of brandy and six drinking glasses. Silently, he poured the alcohol, distributed the glasses, and slid the stopper back into the bottle, replacing it. Tanaka

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><p>The story isn't over yet! More in the next Chapter!<p> 


	12. Chapter 12

Okay... So you probably noticed that I changed the name of chapter eleven... Yeah... There's still more of the story. I had no idea it was going to take so long to write XD

Well, enjoy finally getting the whole picture. Tanaka becomes majorly awesome here.

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><p>"Twelve days and seven hundred cuts later, the angel Angela appeared to him. In exchange for the next born heir to the Phantomhive name and ten years of his own life, Angela granted Michael numbness from his grief, clarity of mind, a fortune twelve times the size of what he had been born into, and her own service. He went as far as to marry her the next month, and she remained his wife for eighteen years until she killed him according to their contract and disappeared, leaving Vincent heir to the Phantomhive name." Tanaka paused, stood, and walked over to the desk. Knowingly, he turned the handle of the top-left drawer clockwise, unlatching the hidden drawer above, from which he procured a bottle of brandy and six drinking glasses. Silently, he poured the alcohol, distributed the glasses, and slid the stopper back into the bottle, replacing it.<p>

A few minutes passed in silence before he began again.

"Within the same year, Vincent Phantomhive married Rachel, whom he loved very deeply. You, Ciel, were born on the day of their anniversary. Both were elated to have a son, however, Rachel's health was failing. As the contract held, the angel Angela returned that day to claim the heir, sealing the child's fate to become angel. When she did your father formed another contract, exchanging his own soul for the life of his dying wife.

"By then the Occult had begun, led by a man named Alexander Macken. With Vincent's soul, Angela seized control of the movement; she destroyed Alexander's integrity and placed Vincent at the head of the organization.

"Jealous and vengeful, Macken steadily formed a resistance within the occult. On the young Earl's birthday, aided by the demon Claude Faustus, Macken and his followers burned the Phantomhive estate to the ground, killing Rachel, wounding Vincent, and kidnapping you Ciel. Angela healed him and fused their souls, sewing their bodies together.

"Shortly after, your parents and the angel disappeared, and I suspect that's when our current Earl formed his own contract."

"How do you know all this?" Ciel followed up.

"Well, I'm sure you noticed my katana downstairs… I was your father's personal guard, Ciel. How I came to be that is a story for another day."  
>After he had finished, Maylene, Finnian, and Bard politely excused myself and began the cleaning of the estate.<p>

Tanaka leaned back in his seat. "The Phantomhive name carries a great infamy for misfortune. I am glad that it ends with you, Young Master, but I have a question of my own. It isn't imperative that you answer; I'm only curious."

"Go on," the Phantomhive Earl prompted, blinking his eyes a few times.

"How is it that you have come to be a demon?" Ciel turned to Sebastian, curious himself. Neither held an answer for Tanaka.

"Truthfully," Sebastian began. "Neither Bocchan, nor I know why—"

Excitedly, a certain flamboyant, red-headed reaper tumbled through the door. "Oooh! Pick me! Pick me!" Grell giggled. Sebastian glared silently at the young, wild shinigami.

"Well, I suppose it's your choice, young master," the older demon sighed. "Shall I kill him?"

"That won't be necessary, Sebastian. I am curious," Ciel replied lazily. "Let him speak." Grell bounced up and down happily.

"Story time!" The reaper declared. "It's really quite fascinating, I think," Grell hummed. "That humans can become demons—it's extremely uncommon, mind you—but possible.

"The first time this phenomenon occurred was ages ago." The reapers yellow-green eyes shined with interest. "There are three known methods in which a human can be made into a demon, all of them tied to the same principle...the decomposition of the human soul. The first method is natural, and therefore almost impossible… this occurs when a person loses all humanity. What exactly that entitles is incomprehensible, but it's been known to happen. In any case, they become animalistic demons, nasty things to deal with. An angel, of course, can be created of the complete opposite.

"The second method is artificial. Of course, demons can reproduce, but there aren't many who get along well enough to do so. Naturally, they have another way to create more of their kind. It's a spell, kept, of course, under lock and key. Few demons have access to it. No others even have the ability to speak it, for it is said that only the lips which have touched souls will know their language. Likewise, angels have a similar spell.

"The third is also artificial. We shinigami call it Soul Splitting. Listen closely, because this is a bit more difficult to understand. Firstly, two souls must be bonded together, and there are thousands of ways to do this. The first must, of course, be human, but the second can be any race; all are equally likely, and none seem to have an influence on the outcome of the process."

"How do you know all this?" Ciel interjected. Grell paused and smirked, showing his dangerously pointed teeth.  
>"Let's just say Bassie isn't the only man who owes me favors…" After a moment, the reaper proceeded, leaving Ciel to ponder his statement silently. "At this step, if the two souls achieve synchronization, an angel is produced; however, the souls may also become unstable and split. If both are human, they decompose and are fused into one body, which becomes a demon. If one is a demon, of course, the human soul decomposes and is consumed by the demon; it hardly differs from traditionally consuming souls. If the second soul is angel, however, the soul is also consumed, and the being becomes a demon."<p>

"So which is it?" Tanaka asked tentatively.

"Actually, none of them," Ciel grumbled.

"Untraditional means, indeed," the red-head purred. Ciel narrowed his eyes, sensing a new presence in the room.

"Yes, things do get messy when dealing with ex-shinigami." The new guest was none other than William T. Spears. "Now if you'll please excuse us," he growled, grabbing hold of Grell's silky red hair.

"Wait! At least let me finish my story," the cross-dressing shinigami whimpered. William sighed in annoyance.

"Between you and that man," Spears grumbled, "I have enough troubles to last me eternity." The brunette shinigami loosened his grip.

Ciel shifted slightly, playing with his ring. "I think I understand," the young demon cut in. All eyes turned to the Earl. "But I'm missing a few pieces.

"Which I have," Sebastian followed up.

"Fascinating isn't it," Grell purred.

"Explain," Tanaka stated blankly.

Sebastian first explained all of the previous day's events as bluntly as he could, save a few details that he kept to himself. Sebastian's baritone voice resonated, deep and rich as he recounted Grell's interrupting the angel's ritual.

"That thing forced their souls to bond," the demon growled dangerously, turning to Grell.

"Yes, troublesome isn't he?" William chucked. "But I do need him," Spears sighed, an affectionate note in his voice. Grell turned to the more experienced shinigami, admiration and disbelief painted all over his face. "To file the next years' worth of cinematic records," William added, coldly, prompting a great amount of whining from the younger reaper.

"After that, I assume," Sebastian continued. "Their souls achieved synchronization, causing Ciel to transform. After that, Undertaker intervened."

"As if I don't have enough problems to deal with," William cursed. "We're expected to remain neutral, but it's quite obvious he prefers you demons… Honestly," William admitted. "I understand why he does; angels tend to make our line of work more difficult than it needs to be…"

"I have a question for you, Mr. Spears, if you can answer it," Sebastian requested. William nodded. "Undertaker explained that we had entered Bocchan's soul…"

"These concepts are not so easy to explain," the dark-haired reaper replied, "but I will try my best.

"That man is… Unique to say the least. I do not know how it is that he enters souls, but I can explain the concept theoretically.

"A human soul contains three layers, the shell, a vast amount of empty space, and a core. You would have been in the space between the core and the shell. When a shell is broken or penetrated, the soul becomes unstable—"

"And decomposes, forming a demon," Grell finished. Glaring at the red-head, William continued.

"However, the boy's soul would have been bonded to the angel's, which retains its stability when breached. Now, if I am correct, you also brought the body in?"

"Yes," Sebastian answered.

"The reaper's scythe separated their two souls?"

"Yes."

"And the angel?"

"Permanently destroyed."

William pondered the events for a moment. "Well, I'm not completely sure of it, but from the events, I'd say the boy's soul began to decompose when you killed the angel. And because it was not within his body… He should have died—" Yet another presence appeared in the room.

"But the butler here sensed that their contract had not been completed," Undertaker chuckled. "And poured his love's soul back into Master Ciel…" Sebastian's eyes narrowed at the silver-haired legend.

"Transforming the boy into a demon," William finished. Ciel's eyes swept over the room and its occupants… Three reapers, two demons, and a human, who seemed to be digesting all the material.

Undertaker's nails drummed on the cold wood of the desk. "Leaving one left," Undertaker mused.

"Pardon?" Ciel questioned, confused.

"Well," Undertaker started, "Your sweetheart took care of the angel, the occult is all but destroyed, the queen died last night, and Macken's soul was eaten by Faustus years ago… Though I'm quite certain he had a son…"

"Alois…" Ciel hissed under his breath. "So the pieces fit together at last."

* * *

><p>Not done yet, but almost there. 13 is a nice number.<p> 


	13. Chapter 13

Well, my dears, it has been a pleasure to write for you.

I, being the unorthodox and impulsive writer that I am, felt like adding a little bit of Claude/Sebastian and Alois/Ciel material to the mix. I hope nobody finds this horrendously pointless. I'm not a huge fan of either of those, but it made sense to me, so I wrote it.

And forgive the main-plot-deviation of the first... I'm just going to call a "line enclosed segment," since I can't think of a better name for it; I couldn't help myself.

Enjoy

* * *

><p>"Will-kun!" Grell cried. "I'm so lonely!"<p>

The first ten minutes, William had been able to ignore it.

An hour of the red-head's incessant whining had only invoked slight agitation.

However, after twenty-four hours, thirty minutes, and exactly seventeen seconds, the brunette reaper finally snapped and trudged, defeated into the file room.

"Just shut your mouth, Sutcliff. I don't want to hear another word from you," Spears moaned, picking up a stack of manila folders.

"William?"

"What," the exhausted shinigami groaned, replacing the last file.

"Why are you helping me?"

William spun around to answer the man, but his words were intercepted by a pair of soft pink lips pressed against his. Too tired to care about both his pride and his work, William actually enjoyed the short moment of blank-mindedness.

Grell pulled away a moment later.

"What are you doing, Sutcliff?"

"I'm sorry," Grell mumbled, a deep blush on his cheeks. _Screw it all_, Spears thought, pulling the red-head into another, deeper kiss.

* * *

><p>"This world is bathed in blood, painted with poison." Ciel's words slipped icily through the amber twilight of mid-July. "And it is time that this game reached its end." Sighing, the earl twirled the deep blue, antique ring on his thumb.<p>

"Bocchan?"

The young demon's eyelids snapped open to reveal a pair of fiery crimson irises. "I'm sorry," the earl mumbled stoically. "It's just that somehow there are always more strings to tie up. It makes me feel rather like a puppet, being dragged this way and that on the whims of some drunken fool with a pair of sticks."

Absentmindedly, the earl brushed his fingertips over the blade of a heavy, jewel-encrusted letter opener.

"Well," Ciel sighed, lifting the object of his fancy to more closely study it. "Is there any sense in waiting to kill Trancy, or are we just sitting here like a pair of mallards on a pond?"

"We could leave now if it so pleases my Lord," Sebastian offered politely.

"Hmmm." Quite impulsively, the boy brought the edge of the letter opener to his lips and drew his tongue over the length of the blade.

Immediately, the ornate Christmas gift from the queen became wickedly sharp.

"And what of our contract when this is over with?" Ciel asked, merely curious. Life and death, good and evil… Honestly, what mattered anymore?

"Bocchan?"

"Answer the question, _Sebastian; _you answer to me yet," the younger man sighed.

"I am not sure I understand the question—"

"It's a simple question," Ciel retorted impatiently.

"It will break."

Silence and then a chilling, silky question.

"Is that so?"

* * *

><p>Strolling silently through the glittering rose gardens, Ciel could not help but admire the beauty of the Trancy estate and found himself deeply torn between burning the manor to the ground or leaving it pristine.<p>

On one hand the vengeful, angry memories of his childhood demanded that all traces of that man should be obliterated.

However, a new personality that stemmed from his demon existence rejected the notion, arguing that the work of art should be preserved.

Ciel plucked a single red-velvet rose from a neighboring bush.

A drop of blood fell from his fingertip, landing softly on the emerald grass.

"To hell with it," Ciel decided.

* * *

><p>At nearly three-thirty in the morning, Alois Trancy woke from his dreamless sleep to the echo of a fist on walnut wood. Lazily, the small blonde rubbed his eyes, calling for the assistance of his handsome demon butler.<p>

"Claude," the spider-loving boy whined. "Who's at the door?" Alois ran a set of pale fingertips through his untidy blonde hair, calming the knots that never failed to appear whenever the boy woke from his rest. What little light there was originated from a crack in the curtains, where the foretelling light of a waning crescent streaked through the glass and onto the plush rug, a silver thread in his ocean of black velvet.

"It appears to be the Earl Phantomhive, My Lord," Claude's sonorous voice answered.

"Visiting at this time in the night?" Alois' eyes trailed over the darkness. "Well, invite them in, I suppose," he grumbled tiredly.

"Of course," the demon replied with a bow, disappearing into the darkness of the halls.

* * *

><p>The manor's heavy wooden doors swung in, revealing a spotless, dimly lit entrance room and the fully-clothed, ever-waking staff of the Trancy household.<p>

"Please come in," Faustus prompted, smugly. "I am afraid you've caught the young master during his rest, but he has agreed to see you." Claude gestured the darkly-clad pair into a spacious, lavish sitting room, adorned with gold leaf and a majestic grand piano which stood proudly under the towering windows. "My master will be with you in a momen—"

"Ciel!" An unmistakably flamboyant, half-dressed, blonde boy giggled, throwing himself at the earl boldly. "What are you doing awake in the middle of the night?"

Normally, the gesture would have irked Ciel to no end; however, a new flame resided within his being, and all the dark-haired boy could do was grin and study, watch and wait for the opportunity to take the first soul—the demon's first meal.

Ciel's eyes opened, his blood-lusting gaze meeting a pair of brilliant, aqua orbs. Deep shadows had set in underneath the spider's entrancing eyes.

"From the looks of it," the Phantomhive boy smirked, "you are the one in need of your sleep, Trancy." Minimal though it was, light from a few candles sufficed; Alois' body stiffened, his eyes widening.

"Ciel?" The childish blonde whimpered. "You couldn't be…"

* * *

><p>Any action Claude Faustus might have taken to save his snack was overshadowed by the presence of Michaelis, the true and lethal presence of a demon far more ancient than Claude. Thick blood streamed lazily down the golden-eyed demon's white throat, spreading quickly across his stiff-pressed collar and down the length of the ivory tunic.<p>

One elegant hand played its way across the expanse of Faustus' neck, and the crimson-eyed demon brought an ungloved fingertip to his lips.

"I'll never wonder why we don't simply consume our own kind." Sebastian vowed, grimacing at the scarcely palatable bitterness he tasted.

"If this doesn't kill me, nothing in heaven will," Michaelis growled, sinking his white teeth into Faustus' bottom lip. Hot, acrid blood gushed over his tongue, and burned its way down the more powerful demon's throat.

A small choking noise escaped Claude's mouth before Sebastian's insatiable lips clamped down on his, willing the mixture of blood and rotting soul from its body. Faustus' eyes caught on a distressing scene.

* * *

><p>Wild, savage hunger consumed the Phantomhive boy as he pulled a gleaming weapon from his pocket.<p>

"Ciel," Alois whimpered, attempting to slap the other boy's hand away. The demon effortlessly caught the human's wrist with his free hand and, slowly, carved a trail of crimson down the helpless blonde's forearm and into his palm, finishing with a final flick of the wrist. The boy's gold and ruby band slipped loose and glided across the marble floor.

Thirty seconds passed, and the lifeless form of Claude Faustus collapsed into the blue gold hues of the Trancy estate.

"I still love you, Ciel," Alois whispered. "So I'll gladly let you have my soul, if that's what will make you happy..."

Something alarmingly human passed through the earl's eyes, only to disappear the next instant. "Pitiful idiot," the demon sneered.

As the Phantomhive's mouth covered his own, Alois smiled, burning tears cascading down his flushed cheeks.

Half a minute more joined the two bodies of master and servant and flames engulfed the dream-like home of Alois Trancy.

Tangled together, two bodies, blonde and brunette, blue and gold, weak and strong faded away into the inferno.

* * *

><p>"So this is the end." Ciel's eyes reflected light from the burning estate. It stood, one enormous war beacon on the English hillside.<p>

Sebastian's eyes flicked to the smaller form beside him, noting several new stains on the boy's custom tailored waistcoat.

"Hardly," the older demon mused almost inaudibly. Ciel turned to the man, confused.

"You will take my soul—what's left of it." Sebastian's face contorted in disgust.

"After Faustus'? Quite frankly, Bocchan," the older demon growled, drawing the boy hungrily into his arms, "there is no way in hell I would even consider it."

* * *

><p>On the other side of the fading home, another conversation drifted across the grounds.<p>

"I believe something of this nature happened not too long ago," Undertaker chuckled. "About three thousand years, I'd say." A lovely silver-haired demon met the shinigami's eyes.

"But there is only one other record of a broken demon contract… And at that, there is only one account of it.

"Ironically enough, it was forged by none other than Peter Gavin Cecil, predecessor to both the Macken and Phantomhive names, and an A. Victoria Incatasi…"

The woman stood in silence.

"So I'm curious, Miss Hannah Annafellows…" A feral grin spread across Undertaker's lips. Hannah slipped a small, ruby ring onto her finger, glaring through the maroon screen at a certain pair of…distracted…demons. "What is your real name?"

"Alice," she purred, vanishing into the consuming blackness.

When thorns pierce through and white bleeds red

Tainted lips leave words unsaid

But lies become truths on tainted lips

And with a wish the master slips

Falling into memories where once an honest smile loomed

Replaced by now a fateful smirk that marks its fallen victim doomed

When poison spreads and blue turns gold

Memories leave tales untold

But curiosity unveils

Undertaker decided that being an ex-shinigami did not, after all, entitle one to permanent and unyielding boredom. He chuckled to himself.

"**Such curious and frightful tales**."

* * *

><p>~Fin~<p>

* * *

><p>...For now anyways...<p> 


	14. Sneak Peek: The Bloody Mary Murder Files

Good evening, my lovelies.

Originally, I had intended to write a one chapter epilogue for Seeing Black; however, after spending sixteen hours in a car, I came up with an idea for a full-blown sequel; here's a sneak peek inside the new story.

It occurs in our time and our universe, and I will publish it as a separate story, which I will name "The Bloody Mary Murder Files."

Here goes...

* * *

><p>Bored out of his mind, the Earl Phantomhive lazily picked up a sleek, black remote, flipping through hundreds of channels absentmindedly, before stopping on the local news station, which he tuned out of quickly.<p>

As luck would have it, the demon boy's lover/butler/secretary/whatever-the-heck-he-was-now had left not an hour later to go run errands in the city.

Being the C.E.O. of Phuntom Toys didn't really require too much effort (though inventing more excuses for his never-aging appearance and occasionally coming up a new alias provided some entertainment), and, because Sebastian spent so much of his time managing various subdivisions of the company, Ciel often found himself slouching in a lavish, leather armchair in front of the seventy-two inch, plasma screen television in the , watching badly-acted soap operas and dull, predictable, action series, loaded with pointless violence and little logic.

Ciel decided that he would—deliberately—hire an additional ten people to take over some of the older demon's work…because, quite frankly, the Phantomhive Earl—and this was something he would never willingly or openly admit—enjoyed that man's company _far_ more than he thought he ought to; as the years passed, Ciel became progressively more addicted to the little time they spent together, particularly the night hours.

But that caused Ciel (even after two hundred years) to blush profusely, so he hastily pushed it to the back of his mind, bringing forth the current business of remodeling the Phantomhive manor.

This included adding several hundred—extremely expensive, mind you—custom hybrid, rose bushes to the grounds, wallpapering and painting every room, refinishing the furniture, restoring the many paintings, and updating all the technology…all which Sebastian—or Ciel himself, really—was capable of taking care of, single-handedly… but that was entirely unnecessary, considering the ridiculously extravagant fortune that had accumulated over two centuries.

The news that night consisted of various clips from the London Olympics, all of which Ciel smirked at, smugly, his perfect lips twisting up at one corner.

No matter how impressive the athletes might have appeared to a human, Ciel, even being a younger and weaker demon, was fully capable of performing any of the activities with several times the speed, skill, and strength. Gymnastics was the only sport that the Earl Phantomhive held a shred of respect for, due to the lithe, flexible bodies of both the males and females.

Even from across the estate, Ciel noted the low scrape of the front door against the door frame; Sebastian was home.

* * *

><p>Reviews always welcome ;)<p> 


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